Thursday, June 9, 2016

GUILTY DREAMS: A Short Story

courtesy of tulleandchantilly.com

Startled by the loud
banging at her door in Moshav Yad Naftali Yael dropped her pins. She groaned as
she looked at them scattered by her feet. Gathering them up would slow her down
and she needed to have the dress finished for a ten o’clock pick-up. As the
banging continued she abandoned the pins. The last thing she needed was for the
children to wake up. That would slow her down even more. And her husband was
out at an important meeting so he wouldn’t be able to help settle them down
again. She half-ran to the door and as she opened it she gasped in alarm. There
stood the rabbi, the nurse, and the local social worker, an ominous gathering.
With one hand she clutched her heart; with the other she tried to slam the door
closed, but the rabbi had already inserted his foot.

“He’s still alive,” he
said gently. “Don’t you want to see him before he goes?”

Yael cried out the cry of
a wounded animal. “Who will stay with the children?”

“I’m here,” a frail voice
announced and Yael turned to see her mother. But her mother had died two years
earlier. At that point Yael realized she’d been dreaming and gratefully pulled
herself from her sleep. A glance at the bed next to her showed her husband
sleeping peacefully. With a sigh of relief she fell back asleep.

It did not take long for
her to find herself in the middle of another terrifying dream. This time her
house was on fire, burned to the ground with not a thing left. Thankfully she
and her family were all okay. As they stood on the street in their nightclothes
different neighbors took the children into their homes to sleep. She and her
husband opted for their car. As she tossed and turned trying to get comfortable
in the backseat she woke up. This time
it was not so easy to fall back asleep. She went to the bathroom, took a drink
of water, and counted sheep.

By the time she’d counted
the fifty-second lamb sleep overtook her. She found herself confined to a
wheelchair. An irate client was demanding to know why her dress wasn’t
finished. Her baby was crying from the crib upstairs and Yael couldn’t go to
him. Wet with perspiration she awoke again.

By now she was afraid to
fall back asleep. Shavuot was almost a week away and she had two bridal dresses
to finish up. She tiptoed out of the bedroom and headed towards her sewing
machine. As her hands slipped pins into the ivory satin material Yael tried to
understand the source of such disturbing dreams. She’d only eaten a light
supper so it couldn’t be from indigestion. Suddenly she remembered the
conversation she’d had with Chaya the day before.

She’d been in the middle
of frying vegetables when the phone rang so she tucked the receiver on her
shoulder, always happy to talk to her best friend, and continued supper
preparations.

“Can you give me your
cheese boureka recipe?” Chaya asked.

“You’re already cooking
for Shavuot?” Yael asked enviously.

“Well, with my sister and
her family coming and Shabbat going straight into the holiday I decided I
better get prepared.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yael
sighed. “Five meals to prepare and I barely have time to make supper for
tonight. What do you already have in your freezer?”

“Chicken and cut up
roasts and three casseroles and a cheese cake and blintzes,” Chaya answered
sheepishly.

“I only have cinnamon
rolls,” Yael answered dolefully and gave her vegetables a quick stir. “And I’m
behind on my sewing.”

“I’m sorry,” Chaya was
sympathetic.

“Yeah, well,” Yael
sighed, “it will all come together. It always does. But you know what,” she
hesitated.

“What?”

“I spoke to Shira today.
You know she and the girls always come to us for at least one meal on the
holidays.”

“Uh-hum,” Chaya answered.
“They’re coming to us Friday night. She said she’d bring a spice cake.”

Shira was their neighbor
whose life had been far from easy. Several years earlier she’d finally left her
abusive husband, but he still refused to give her a divorce. Shira put her
efforts into keeping him away from their twin daughters, one of whom was
wheelchair bound. In spite of it all, Shira remained optimistic, full of faith
that her problems would work out.

“Right,” Yael agreed.
“She’s bringing a spice cake to me too. But..”

“You don’t like spice
cake,” Chaya interrupted.

“True but I didn’t tell
her that. But do you know what she told me this morning?”

“What?”

“She told me,” Yael moved from the stove and
began sorting laundry. “that she wished she hadn’t committed cakes to anybody
because she’s feeling overwhelmed. She’s feeling overwhelmed with five spice cakes.
How does she think I feel with five full meals to prepare and two wedding
dresses to finish besides everything else?”

“I know,” Chaya was still
being understanding. “But you and I are overwhelmed physically. She’s
overwhelmed emotionally. You and I will be working hard to make meals to serve
on OUR tables in OUR homes with OUR husbands making Kiddush.”

“Oh, no!” Yael shrieked
dropping her son’s dirty pajamas and running back to the stove.

“What’s wrong?”

“The vegetables are
burning!” She grabbed the frying pan and gasped as she almost caught her sleeve
on fire.

“Are you okay?” Chaya
cried out.

“Yeah,” Yael let her
breath out slowly. “I can’t say the same about supper.”

“I have a big pot of
vegetable soup. Come take half.”

“Thanks,” Yael managed a
smile. “I can put up some eggs and toast in the same time it would take to come
get the soup.”

“You’re sure?’

“Sure, but thanks
anyway,” Yael repeated.

As she’d ended the
conversation she’d ignored the reproach of her friend’s earlier words but now,
at five-twenty in the morning, she could no longer disregard them. It was too
early to call anyone, but not too early to ask HaShem to forgive her for
her selfish thoughts. And to thank Him for all the blessings He’d given her.

In a few hours she’d call Chaya and ask her to
wipe their conversation from yesterday out of her mind. Then she’d call Shira. She’d tell her that
she had the meals all under control and didn’t need any more cake. Yael would
make sure Shira understood that what they needed was Shira and the girls’
company. Shira should know that they were very special guests and Yael couldn’t
imagine having a holiday without them. That done, Yael was certain, she’d be
finished with her guilty dreams.

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Aim of Blog

Emunah, faith in God, does not mean believing only good things will happen; it means believing that whatever God does is for the best. I wrote these words at a time when drive-by shootings and suicide bombers had become almost weekly, if not daily, tragedies. Now, more than ten years later, the words are no less true. Whatever HaShem does is for the best. It is my hope to post articles, advice, and homey stories everyweekwhich will reinforce this fact. And now, a special thanks to:

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About Me

Born in Wichita, Kansas, I became a Baalat Teshuva, newly religious, in Phoenix, Arizona while attending ASU. After twelve years of marriage my husband and I made Aliyah with five children and settled in Shilo in the heart of Israel. Two more children joined the family as have daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, Baruch HaShem. My favorite past times are learning, sewing, hiking, reading, cooking, baking, enjoying my family and friends, and, of course, writing. My first novel, Sondra’s Search, was published in 2007 and I am working on the sequel.